...A poem can be as delicious as a meal or as satisfying as an authentic conversation. Enjoy!

from Sagesse

[10]

Or is it a great tide that covers the rock-pool

so that it and the rock are indistinguishable

from the sea-shelf and are part of the sea-floor,

though the sea-anemone may quiver apprehensively

and the dried weed uncurl painfully

and the salt-sediment rebel, "I was salt,

a substance, concentrated, self-contained,

am I to be dissolved and lost?"

"It is fearful, I was a mirror, an individual,"

cries the shallow, rock-pool, "now infinity

claims me: I am everything? but nothing";

peace, salt, you were never as useful as all that,

peace, flower, you are one of a thousand-thousand others,

peace, shallow pool be lost.

                                                                                                                                                   ~Hilda Doolittle